


Bad Timing

by SpangleBangle



Series: Just Bokuroo ThingsTM [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Everybody is supportive and nothing hurts, Fluff, Fukuroudani Training Group, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Menstruation, My First Work in This Fandom, No Transphobia, Protective Nekoma, Public Display of Affection, Trans Character, Trans Kuroo Tetsurou, Trans Ukai, except Kuroo's stomach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo gets a brutal period at a very unfortunate moment. And while Bokuto can be spacey, he knows how to lift a guy up when he's low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Timing

“...Keep oxygen moving, so the brain works normally.” Kuroo said, holding his fist in the middle of his team’s circle. His team mates gave a shout and he patted Yaku’s shoulder as they broke apart and walked onto the court.

“Are you feeling okay?” Kenma asked softly as they got into their setter and middle blocker positions. “You look pale.”

Kuroo grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just a headache.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked up to his for a moment, clearly sceptical. Kuroo looked away, knowing there were bags under his eyes from his sleepless night, and his jaw was clenched tight enough to make the veins in his neck stand out. In truth he could feel the beginnings of cramps in his stomach and was trying to ignore them, hoping that with the exercise of playing, all that natural dopamine and adrenaline release would negate the pain.

Kenma didn’t say anything else, but didn’t turn to face the net either, even with Karasuno’s number 10 just there to distract and engage him. Kuroo worked his jaw and glanced about to see who was listening. “It’s just a bad time, I guess.” He muttered.

Kenma only blinked. “Oh.”

Kuroo twitched a half-shrug. “It’ll pass.”

“Okay.”

To his credit, Kenma didn’t ask if Kuroo felt up to playing, or whether he wanted a less active role in the match. They’d been friends a long time, after all. Kenma knew it would only make Kuroo feel embarrassed and defensive, so he just turned back to the net. Kuroo took a slow breath to try and settle himself, despite the dig of the sports bra around his ribs. As uncomfortable as it was, he was cautious about wearing a binder to matches in case it hurt his lungs.

He noticed Karasuno’s little number 10 – Hina? – watching him, and coolly raised his eyebrows to glare down at the kid. He jumped and purposely looked away, apparently intimidated. _Good_ , Kuroo thought vaguely. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. He could do the scary guy thing to protect his privacy.

The referee, one of the volunteers from Ubugawa, stood at the net line and blew a sharp note on his whistle. Kuroo took another slow breath and tried to sink into his mindset of absolute game-focus – being aware of his team mates on the court, the positioning of the opponent, his knowledge of all of their skills and strategies, the warmth and latent energy in his limbs, ready to fling himself in front of the ball at a second’s notice. He was almost there but for the twisting pang in his lower abdomen when he lifted his arms up in a ready position. He ignored it as best he could while Taketora served, the ball flying cleanly over the net and almost dropping on the ground if it weren’t for Karasuno’s captain smoothly sending it to his own setter. Kuroo wondered briefly if Daichi had ever considered coming to Nekoma, with a receive like that. He meant to ask every time their teams met up for practice games like this, but kept forgetting when they were off the court. Oh well. Time to focus on the ball.

 He saw the Karasuno setter get into position, and heard more than saw number 10 crouching down to spring into one of his wild jumps. Moving almost purely on instinct, Kuroo crouched and jumped as well, arms reaching up and fingers splaying down. But his body abruptly felt less his own, less in control, slower to respond. Number 10 was already up, arm arched back and about to swing and Kuroo was only just in the air – he stretched his arms as much as he could but 10 got to the apex first and slammed the ball down, sailing past Kuroo before he’d even got into a proper block. He heard a distinctive thud and knew somebody, probably Yaku, had scooped it up. Kuroo landed heavily back on his feet, flatfooted, not at all the usual light spring, and felt the ball moving behind him in a whoosh of air, back to Kenma. Kuroo crouched again and willed his legs to work properly this time and sprung up as Kenma set it to him, right arm swinging back ready to spike – and a sudden spasm of pain across his midsection froze him for a second, paused his swing, and he only made barest contact with the ball, hitting it more with his fingertips. It flipped on top of the net and sank towards the ground, but it was slow and easy for Karasuno’s libero to catch and send high up again.

“Shit,” Kuroo hissed as he landed badly again before moving into a block with Kai. Kai briefly grabbed the back of Kuroo’s shirt to help steady him and time the jump. With their timing now synchronised, they managed to put up an effective block this time against Karasuno’s shaved-head wing spiker, Tanaka. The whistle gave a short _tweet_ and they moved back to position. Kai gave him a curious look and Kuroo knew he’d have to say something.

“I’m warmed up now,” He said with a shrug, trying to play down his uncharacteristically poor block and spike.

Kai kept looking at him. “Don’t mind,” He said eventually with a brief smile. “Keep the blood flowing, right?”

“Ha, yeah. Okay, let’s get the next point as well.”

Kai nodded and they turned back to the net. Kuroo saw Kenma watching him and tried to ignore it, annoyed with himself for starting off so poorly. He’d dealt with pain before, it never usually interfered with games like this. And it was embarrassing, being the captain and core middle blocker of their vanguard defense, and being unable to block such a tiny player or spike properly. Yaku would never let him live it down. He didn’t think Tsukushima, Akaashi or Bokuto would either, honestly.

“Was that supposed to be a block?” Tsukushima said in a stage whisper from the side of the court, smirking at his mentor. Kuroo pretended not to have heard, grimacing at another wave of pain. They were getting worse.

He took a deep breath and banished all thoughts of it from his mind, focussing on the current play and not dwelling on his failed first block and spike. For the first set, it seemed to be working, mostly. The majority of the time he played like normal, even starting to feel confident that he was managing pretty well and playing a good match. But then every so often, a twisting stab would wrench his insides and he would falter, move slow, react badly, distract him and confuse his thoughts, miss blocks and spikes and lose track of everyone’s position on court, nearly colliding with Kenma at one point.

“Sorry,” He said at the end of that point, flushing with shame at the thought of how he could have hurt Kenma, who was so much smaller and lighter and would have been flattened if they’d gone down. He lightly touched Kenma’s shoulder. “I got muddled. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re not.”

Kuroo frowned and was about to reply when he noticed the rest of the team had gathered around, wearing identically anxious looks.

“Maybe you should take the bench for a while, Kuroo,” Yaku suggested. “You don’t look well. You’re really pale. Are you coming down with something? You shouldn’t be playing when sick, you know that.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth, knowing he should be touched by their concern but just feeling annoyed he was performing so badly and _fuck_ , his stomach felt really bad and he knew logically he should take a time out, but he didn’t want to draw any further attention to himself. He knew Karasuno were looking over, watching, analysing this weakness and wondering what was going on.

“I’m _fine_ , guys. Must be dehydration or something.”

Their coach came over with water bottles, pleading a time out from the ref. Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, Kuroo drank an entire bottle and mopped over his face and neck with a towel. He felt overheated and sweaty despite not exerting himself as much as usual, but his hands were cold and clammy when he checked their temperature against his cheek.

“Kuroo-kun,” their coach said with a frown. “Do you honestly feel you’re in condition to play right now?”

Kuroo kept his face impassive as his guts writhed and lifted his chin. “Yes, Coach. I apologise for my performance.”

Coach Naoi narrowed his eyes. “Kuroo-kun. Be honest.”

“I am able to play, Coach. I promise.”

Naoi watched him for a few moments. “Alright,” He said reluctantly. “But if you look shaky again I’m pulling you out of the match.”

Kuroo gave a short bow and handed the bottle and towel back to the school volunteers just as the ref indicated their time was up.

Determined to show no weakness, Kuroo forced himself to ignore the pain and pushed his body harder, demanding its usual responsiveness. He went for dives, jumped hard and spiked with every ounce of muscle and sweat in him. If it weren’t for the pain gradually ratcheting up in intensity in his abdomen, radiating out into his back and hips, he would have felt great.

And then, just when he was going for a personal time difference attack, it was like his insides ripped open. His vision wavered and he collapsed to his knees with a pained curse. He heard Kenma and Yaku calling his name in alarm but could do little other than curl over on himself, a hand clutching at his stomach and the other at the floor. It was so bad, it had never been this bad before, fuck, fuck, fuck… he panted shallowly, ignoring everything but the agony tearing through his guts, seizing his legs and back and pulsing up into his shoulders.

Kenma dropped to his side, eyes wide as his friend bowed in a painful hunch over his stomach, forehead almost touching the floor.

“Kuroo,” he said. “Kuroo. _Kuroo._ ”

Kuroo made an animal noise of pain and Kenma swallowed sudden panic. The rest of Nekoma and Karasuno were crowding around, everyone asking questions and surrounding them fretfully.

“Kuroo, you need to go to the medics,” Kenma said as firmly as he could. “Can you stand?”

Kuroo moaned again while his hand spasmed on the floor. Kenma clasped it and Kuroo’s strong fingers immediately clamped down, squeezing hard enough that Kenma felt the bones grate.

“Help him stand,” Kenma said loudly, looking around at the useless crowd. Azumane from Karasuno and Taketora surged in, holding under Kuroo’s arms and trying to lift him up. Kuroo swore loudly and fought against them, hunching tighter in on himself reflexively. “Stop, stop,” Kenma said to them, looking around desperately, mind racing. “Where’s – where’s… Shouyou!” He found Hinata in the crowd, who jumped and nodded. “Find Bokuto, from Fukurodani. Number four. He’s strong enough to lift Kuroo.”

Hinata nodded and raced away, yelling loudly for Bokuto-san outside the gyms, as Fukurodani were doing running laps around the grounds.

“Bokuto-saaaaan!” He yelled, searching as hard as he could. “Bokuto-saaaaaan!”

“Who’s yelling for me?” A rough voice called back from over the hill. A crest of silvery hair rapidly followed by the burly young man appeared. “Oooh, it’s little jumper!”

“Bokuto-san!” Hinata screamed in a panic. “Kenma said – you need – Kuroo-san’s collapsed, and won’t move – we need–!”

“Kuroo?” Bokuto went white as a sheet for a second, then ran over to Hinata, a serious look on his face. “Where is he?”

Hinata pointed back to the gym with a shaking hand and Bokuto ran past him in a blur. “Oi, oi, everybody move!” He called as he ran in. “Clear some goddamn space! Tetsu?”

He knelt down with Kenma and started rubbing firmly over Kuroo’s lower back. “Tetsu, it’s me. You have to get up, we need to move you.”

Kuroo moaned but leaned a little towards Bokuto. “It hurts so bad, Bo,” He gasped. “It never hurts like this.”

“I know, I know,” Bokuto said soothingly and rescued Kenma’s hand, taking Kuroo’s grip on himself instead. He rubbed hard over the tops of Kuroo’s hips and his back. “We need to get you up.”

“He won’t stand,” Kenma said in a strangled voice, meeting Bokuto’s eyes. “We tried, A-Azumane and Taketora, but they couldn’t…”

Bokuto nodded in understanding and concealed his alarm to smile at his supine friend. “You been working out since the last meet up, Tetsu? Guess it’s up to me to lift you, huh?”

Kuroo made a noise under his breath that was part curse and part huffed laugh. Bokuto squeezed his hand. He leaned down to murmur softly in Kuroo’s ear. “It’ll be okay, Tetsu. We’re gonna look after you. But you gotta let me lift you first.”

“It hurts…”

“I know, I know babe, I know. You can do it.”

Kuroo whispered something and Bokuto leaned down closer, cheek almost on the floor as well. “I’m scared, Kou.” He whispered again. “And I think – there’s… I need a jacket.”

Bokuto squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay, Tetsu. I’m gonna look after you. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? I promise it’s gonna be okay.”

Kuroo nodded once and Bokuto sat up again. “Kenma, get his jacket.”

Kenma had it outstretched already. Bokuto nodded and looked at the anxious, hovering crowd. “Can you all turn around for a sec, please? And has anybody called for medics yet?”

Everyone turned their backs, everyone except Nekoma looking baffled. The fluffy-haired advisor for Karasuno replied to him. “They’re getting ready in the medical building if you take him over, there aren’t any stretchers here apparently.”

“Good. Right, Tetsu, I’m gonna lift you up and Kenma’s gonna deal with the jacket. It’s gonna hurt but you’ve gotta be strong for me, babe. Okay?”

Kuroo gave another tight nod and Bokuto leaned over him and wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s chest and back. “Take a deep breath. Three, two, one.” He started slowly pulling up, forcibly uncurling Kuroo’s tense, lanky frame with the strength of his own arms and back. Kuroo shouted in agony but leaned heavily into Bokuto, panting and swearing foully. Bokuto kept up a constant stream of encouragement and reassurance, uncaring that everybody could hear the very clear affection and intimacy in his voice. Once Kuroo was somewhat closer to kneeling upright, Kenma tucked the jacket under his thighs and tied it around his waist to obscure the creeping bloodstains between his thighs and in the seat of his pants.

“There we go, Tetsu, you’re doing great. You’re doing just great, babe.” He pressed a quick kiss to Kuroo’s cheek, who was trembling and slumped against him. His face was screwed up in agony, cold sweat covering his skin. He sobbed, tears leaking from under his eyes.

“It’s never this bad,” He hissed.

“I know, I know it’s scary. Does this help?” Bokuto eased a hand down and started rubbing firm circles against Kuroo’s abdomen. He could feel the taught muscles spasming and contracting and was momentarily awed by the sheer power of the uterus to cause such pain. Kuroo hissed again, but after a moment nodded.

“A bit.”

“Okay. Just call me magic hands.”

Kuroo sobbed a brief laugh and leaned his head against Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto looked over at Kenma, who was shaking a bit. “Kenma, can you get his bag for me, please? I’ve got him.”

Kenma nodded and ran, moving faster than any of his team mates had ever seen. Bokuto kept massaging, knowing the pressure and heat of his hand was helping with the pain.

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. You’re doing great. Just breathe with me, yeah?”

Kuroo nodded and for a few minutes they just breathed in and out, in and out. Kenma reappeared with Kuroo’s things, still looking shaken. _It’s okay_ , Bokuto mouthed to him over Kuroo’s trembling shoulders. Kenma gave a tiny nod but it didn’t seem to really reassure him.

“Thanks, Kenma. Why don’t you go stand with your team, I’ve got this.” He was trying to be kind but wasn’t sure it was coming across all that well. He and Kenma didn’t talk as much as he did with Kuroo, though he and Akasshi seemed to get along. Luckily, Yaku caught on and gently pulled Kenma away, an arm around his shoulders. Bokuto turned his attention back to Kuroo.

“How’s it feel now, sweetheart?”

Kuroo swore viciously in reply but Bokuto noticed he was trembling a little less and was taking deeper breaths.

“That’s my dude,” Bokuto smiled fondly. “Though fucking dick, you’ve got a mouth on you.”

He heard a few snorts from the crowd that were quickly covered up.

“It helps,” Kuroo forced through gritted teeth. “Believe me, it helps.”

“Oh yeah? Is that a fact?” Bokuto teased gently.

“Mmhmm,” Kuroo replied in a tight voice. “Saw it – on Mythbusters – one time. Does something with the – _ah, fuck_ – the neurohormones. Something with – _shit_ – dopamine. I think. Pain relief.”

“You are such a nerd,” Bokuto muttered fondly, earning another huffy laugh. “Well I’ve got a thing for you.”

“Hm?”

“Be proud of me, I listened in Chemistry. Oxytocin.” He kissed Kuroo’s temple and rubbed more firmly over his stomach.

“Aw,” Kuroo said after a moment. “That’s so sweet and lame.”

“But are you proud of me?”

“I’m very proud of you,” Kuroo replied, and Bokuto thought there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “Maybe you’ll pass Chemistry this year.”

“Let’s not get too excited, it was only one lesson,” Bokuto grinned. He noticed that Kuroo’s shirt was slipping from all the excitement, showing the bra straps. Bokuto bit his lip, not wanting to bring Kuroo’s attention to it now he seemed to be relaxing. But his hands were occupied, and everybody was purposefully turned away and trying to turn a deaf ear to their conversation. Kenma was sitting apart with the little number 10 from Karasuno, having his own reassuring talk. And while Bokuto was pretty sure all of Nekoma knew the situation, he didn’t think Kuroo would want one of them to actually see it. He was trying to think what to do to help ease Kuroo’s dignity and privacy when he noticed the coach from Karasuno, the wild-looking guy with bleached hair and piercings, glance over with his eyes unmistakably lingering on the bra straps. Then he met Bokuto’s gaze and stepped over quietly. Bokuto looked meaningfully at the back of Kuroo’s shirt and the coach gently reached down to settle it back into place so the straps were hidden under his shirt.

“Hm?” Kuroo grunted, confused by this new contact.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bokuto said calmly. “Just your shirt.”

“What? Oh – shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bokuto said again.

“God, this is embarrassing,” Kuroo muttered.

“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, kid,” Karasuno’s coach said gruffly. “Though you _should_ tell your coach when you’re unwell.”

Kuroo glanced at the older man, a faint blush coming to his cheeks as he realised what the coach had seen. But he refused to move away from Bokuto, setting his jaw stubbornly at what he interpreted as judgement.

The coach smiled and crouched down. “Let’s get you up, Kuroo-kun.”

“How’s the pain now?” Bokuto asked.

“A bit less.”

“Enough to stand?”

“Maybe.”

Bokuto saw the fear of renewed agony in Kuroo’s face and gave his cheek another firm kiss, ignoring the coach who didn’t look surprised or shocked anyway. “I’ve got you, Tetsu.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Bokuto set his shoulder under Kuroo’s arm and held him tight around the shoulder and waist, holding him like a lifeguard supporting an unconscious swimmer, Kuroo’s head on his shoulder. The coach – Ukai, wasn’t it? – supported him on the other side after considerately tightening the jacket around his hips.

“We’re gonna pull you up, but you gotta push with those lanky-ass legs of yours too, okay? Put those amazing thighs to good use.”

“Kou, oh my God.”

“You know I don’t do subtle. Now let’s get you up.”

They counted to three and began to slowly stand. Kuroo’s legs trembled but Bokuto and Ukai were taking most of his weight anyway. Once he was standing, though cursing again, Bokuto moved an arm to hold his hip more securely, helping take even more of his weight. There was a ragged round of cheers and Kuroo grimaced at the floor. While it had just been Bokuto talking to him, it had felt like everyone else had vanished and he’d forgotten that he’d collapsed so embarrassingly in front of literally everybody at the training camp. They would talk, later. Ask questions. Speculate. Gossip among themselves. He couldn’t look any of them in the eye. He hid his face in Bokuto’s neck, sickly shame and humiliation making a new flavour when mixed with the pain in his stomach and hips.

“I’ve got you,” Bokuto murmured again. Then, louder, “Nekoma! Honour guard, please.”

His team mates formed a protective shield around them, hiding Kuroo behind a wall of red jerseys and fiercely protective expressions. Kenma walked just in front, carrying Kuroo’s bag in white-knuckled hands. They progressed at a limping shuffle to scattered applause from the other teams.

“Karasuno, get back to serve and receiving practice,” Ukai called. “We were losing to Nekoma even while they had a guy injured. Step it up!”

“Yes, Ukai-san!” Daichi called back, and began corralling his team. The other teams reluctantly got back to practice as well and Kuroo sighed in relief as they shuffled. They passed Fukurodani at the door.

“Akaashi, can you take over?” Bokuto asked.

“I already did. You ran off without telling anyone. But I can see it was an emergency.”

“Thanks, Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned. “I’ll be back later.”

“Get well soon, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said quietly, and turned to organise his team as well. Nekoma kept a respectful silence as they walked towards the medic’s offices across the grounds.

“How is it now?” Bokuto asked quietly once they were out of the gym.

Kuroo grunted. “I want to lie down.”

“Nearly there.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I really, really hate this.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it, babe. Everybody cares about you, they just want you to get better.”

“They’re gonna find out.”

Ukai broke in. “Your body is nothing to be ashamed of. Your team obviously have a huge amount of respect for you, and your friends love you. As does your boyfriend, evidently.” A note of steel entered his voice. “And I guarantee nobody at Karasuno would hold it against you or talk about you behind your back. They’d have me to answer to.”

Kuroo was quiet for a minute. Then he muttered, “Thank you, Ukai-san.”

Ukai nodded and lowered his voice further. “You’re not exactly the only one, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo looked at him. “Oh.”

Ukai gave a quick smile and looked ahead to where the medics were bustling about the entrance of the building. “Let’s get inside.”

Half an hour later, Kuroo was cleaned up, wearing fresh shorts and underwear with a thick pad, and laying in bed with water bottles pressed to his stomach and lower back. Kenma had visited earlier, trying to apologise for setting so much to Kuroo and making him exert himself, but Kuroo had been quick to reassure his friend that it was his own damn fault for being too stubborn for taking the bench. When Kenma left he didn’t seem so guilty or scared, which eased Kuroo’s mind considerably. He felt a bit woozy from the painkillers they’d given him once he was in bed, and smiled drowsily as Bokuto carded through his hair from the chair by the bed.

“Sorry I’m such a gross gory mess,” He mumbled.

“Shh, Tetsu. You’re not a gross mess at all. You have appalling timing, but you’re not gross.” Bokuto smiled fondly and kept stroking through his hair.

“Do you still think I’m a cool, handsome dude?”

He meant it to sound light and joking, but it came out much more honest and worried than intended.

“Of course, bro,” Bokuto smiled. “You’re the coolest, most handsome dude I know. And you should know how much I love all your bits.”

Kuroo snorted.

“I mean it,” Bokuto grinned. “I’ll go down on you later. Maybe not today, but when you’re feeling more comfortable. You’ll see.”

Kuroo grinned back at him. “My prince charming.”

“Who says romance is dead?”

“Not my cold, cynical heart.”

“Babe.”

Kuroo smiled and closed his eyes briefly. It had taken a long time for Kuroo to be comfortable with Bokuto eating him out without feeling dysphoric, but he had such a sweet way with his tongue and fingers. And Bokuto would always immediately stop if Kuroo made even the slightest suggestion of being uncomfortable. And the thought of Bokuto being eager to get down between his legs and go to fucking town with his mouth was pretty reassuring after everything that had happened earlier.

“You’re pretty great, Kou.” He murmured sleepily. “And you give amazing blowjobs.”

Bokuto snorted loudly and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Go to sleep, silly cat.”


End file.
